


Ancien Régime

by Runie (Runic)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Musketeers (2014), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Betrayal, Class Issues, Crossover, Developing Relationship, F/M, Female Loki, Lady Loki, Multi, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runic/pseuds/Runie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his family's fall from grace, Thor is left searching for odd jobs to survive. When a group of thieves starts targeting nobility, he has the perfect opportunity to prove his skills to the King's cousin and his wife,  the Duchess Loki. Instead of a simple job, what he ends up with is a plot to murder the king, the truth about what happened to his father six years ago, and a love he cannot dare to acknowledge. Luckily for him, his friends within the Musketeer regiment, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, are not about to abandon him when he needs them most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Midnight Danger

**Author's Note:**

> I would like it known that my area of focus is 15th century England, so this is kind of out of my comfort zone. I just couldn't leave the idea of Loki and Richelieu working together alone.
> 
> I had a lot of fun researching, though I admit I still have more to do. That being said, please be patient with me on updates as this story requires more work than my others. (Also, although the prologue is short, I'm planning on the chapters being much longer than this.)

_Late 1624  
Paris, France_

“Thor, you must awake.”

The urgency of his mother’s voice had Thor up and awake in record time. All thoughts of sleep vanished at the unconcealed concern in Frigga’s eyes. “What is it?”

Frigga did not answer, instead disappearing for a few moments before returning with an armful of clothes. “Get dressed,” she ordered.

“Mother?” Thor tried to question again.

“There is no time, my dear,” Frigga answered as she began throwing Thor’s possessions into a bag. “Your father is in trouble, and therefore we are as well. Heimdall will take you to safety.”

“What about you?” Thor immediately interjected. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. His mother was unshakeable, the pillar upon which their family drew strength. If she was worried, then there truly was something to be worried about.

Frigga once again ignored his question. She spun on her heel, pushing the hastily packed bag into Thor’s arms, before hugging Thor to her. He had not noticed it until now, but he had finally overtaken his mother in height. For a moment, Frigga was still, the only time she had stopped moving in these few desperate minutes. “Do not worry about me. I have my own ways to survive, but you must be protected. Please, do not argue with me on this.”

“I-“ It took every ounce of will within him not to disobey his mother then and there. The last thing Thor wanted to do was leave his mother in such an obviously dangerous situation. “I love you, Mother.”

“And I love you, my dear one.” Frigga kissed the top of Thor’s head before slowly, reluctantly, stepping back. “Heimdall knows what is happening. He will tell you everything when you have reached safety. I will join you as soon as I am able.”

Frigga’s firm hand on his shoulder guided Thor out of his rooms and down the halls of their home. Heimdall waited with two horses, saddle bags packed with supplies. Thor was hastily shoved onto his saddle, able only to watch as Frigga and Heimdall exchanged a few hurriedly whispered words.

In the dark it was hard to see much of anything, but when Heimdall mounted his own horse, Thor caught a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Ride,” Heimdall ordered before moving his own horse, working up to a steady canter.

Even knowing time was of the essence, Thor took a moment to look back at his home and his mother. There was a finality about the whole situation that made dread settle in his stomach and twist in his gut. Thor knew if he ever returned to this place again, it would not be a homecoming.

/

“So Odin was supporting Marie. A rather stupid move for such a smart man.”

“You at one time would have offered her your own support.”

Richelieu looked less than impressed with Loki’s back talk. “You will never say such a thing again, least these walls hear you. Is that understood?”

Loki bowed her head, the perfect picture of apology. “Of course, Cardinal. I allowed the situation to go to my head, and loosen my tongue. It will not happen again.”

Richelieu was silent for a long moment, assessing Loki. As true as her statement sounded, neither of them pretended for a moment they were deceived by it.  “I took you in after your family’s disgraced exile because I saw potential in you. Do not make me regret my decision. My position as the King’s advisor is yet still new, and I will not have it taken away by your actions.”

The triumphant in Loki’s eyes immediately drained away, replaced by worry. “I never meant to put you at jeopardy. My intentions were to destroy the man who had ruined my family, not the man who saved me from the gutter.”

Richelieu sighed, letting go of his anger. “Very well. Now that your family has been avenged, there are other matters we must attend to.”

The Cardinal sat behind his desk, leaving Loki to stand before him. Once again there was an air of confidence and wit about the young foreign woman that first brought her to Richelieu’s attention. “Despite the stigma attached to your name, I have managed to arrange a marriage for you, one which will be of benefit to us both.”


	2. Chapter 1: The Working Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, from what I can tell, The Musketeers takes place in 1630-31, which is when this story takes place. But Louis XIV was born in 1638, so the dates don't actually match up and it means I had to play around with some events. I am trying to stay as true to history as possible, but that's not always easy when dealing with fictional versions of real people, or just plain fictional characters.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

“That is certainly a sorry sight, if I’ve ever seen one.”

D'Artagnan looked questioningly between Porthos’ smiling face to where Athos was sitting with a large blond man, a smile actually managing to creep its way across the man’s usually dower face. “Who is that?” But Porthos’ deep laugh drowned out d’Artagnan’s question, and he was heading for the table before it could be repeated.

“What is going on?” Aramis asked, coming into the tavern, lagging a few seconds behind d’Artagnan and Porthos.

“We did not think to see your ugly mug again so soon!” Porthos declared, loud enough for the entire establishment to hear.

The blond man laughed at Porthos while kicking out a chair for him to sit at.

“Or ever again!” Aramis added, which only caused the man to laugh harder. Aramis placed a hand on the back of d’Artagnan’s should and began to steer him through the crowd. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“You’re late,” Athos accused as soon as they approached the table.

“Had we known Thor had returned to our loving embrace, we would have resisted the urge to belittle the Red Guards,” Aramis said as he sat down next to Porthos, leaving the only open seat for d’Artagnan to take directly across from the blond man.

“For some reason, I have my doubts about that.”

Aramis dramatically slapped a hand over his heart, doing his best to look wounded. “That hurts, Thor, truly it does.”

Thor shook his head, laughing good naturedly at the other man’s antics before turning his attention to d’Artagnan. “Since they will continue on this path, forgetting that we have not been properly introduced for some time, allow me. I am Thor Æsir, unfortunate friend to these three for much too long now.”

D’Artagnan smiled, deciding that he liked this contradiction of a man. Thor looked gruff, like he should constantly be bashing heads into walls, but his good nature and easy laughter put one at easy around him almost instantly. “D’Artagnan, unfortunate friend to these three for not long enough.”

“I am unsure if I feel loved or hated right now,” Athos commented dryly.

“Well, I for one am glad we replaced you,” Aramis directed to Thor. He was quick to hold his hands up in surrender when both Thor and d’Artagnan turned unimpressed gazes upon him.

“You are a Musketeer then?” Thor asked.

“I am,” d’Artagnan answered proudly.

“Only recently commissioned,” Aramis added.

“He still worries about getting his uniform dirty,” Porthos said in a not so quiet whisper.

Thor shook his head at their antics, and motioned for more drink. “My congratulations, d’Artgnan. We should celebrate with more wine!”

“I won’t argue with that.”

More easy banter passed between the four men as their cups were refilled. By the time d’Artagnan was beginning to feel warm and content, he had learned that Thor had spent the past year protecting a merchant’s goods traveling back and forth between Spain. Now that the merchant had decided the journey had simply grown too dangerous, Thor was back in Paris looking for work.

“It sounds like you are a capable warrior. Why not join the Musketeers?” d’Artagnan asked. The table immediately fell silent, and he knew he had said something wrong. “My apologizes-”

Thor held up his hand to cut d’Artagnan off. “It is all right, you have no way of knowing. Unfortunately, that path is closed to me. I would prefer to leave it at that.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan answered, a little unsure of himself now.

After a moment, Athos broke the silence that had fallen over them by asking, “What are your plans then?”

“As unfortunate as these recent attacks against the nobility have been, they are creating a desperate search for trustworthy men of my skills. I have already had several interviews and tests with one home.”

“I had heard of that. No one has yet to be attacked in Paris yet?”

“No.” Thor shook his head. “It has all been during travel to or from the city.”

“At least no one is claiming you’re the perpetrator this time,” Porthos said to Athos.

“Yes, I had heard you three had gotten into all sorts of trouble while I was away. For shame!”

Athos sighed heavily as the rest of the table chuckled. “Which high family will you be selling yourself to?” he asked once the laughter had died away, trying to divert the conversation’s back to Thor.

“Well…” Thor trailed off, but it did not seem necessary for him to finish.

“No!” Aramis declared, while Athos and Porthos’ eyes attempted valiantly to reach the size of dinner plates.

Thor shrugged. “He pays well, and the Duchess’ own guards were recently killed in a hunting accident.”

“Accident,” Porthos huffed. “A pile of horse shit smells prettier than that lie.”

“Wait,” d’Artagnan interrupted, remembering that he had recently heard this news, “are you talking about the _Duc de Latveria_?”

“His wife specifically, but yes.”

“I do not enjoy speaking ill of a beautiful woman, but the Duchess is the incarnation of pure evil.”

“Loki was from Denmark, but was sent here to learn the ways of the French court,” Athos explained. “When her father was convicted of treason, she was left here without any support. Unexpectedly, the Cardinal took pity on her and claimed Loki as his ward. He was later able to arrange a marriage between her and the king’s cousin, Victor von Doom.”

“She is manipulative and calculating,” Porthos grumbled.

“Basically a female version of the Cardinal,” Aramis added.

“Now, now, my friends, you judge only on rumor,” Thor said, trying to calm the sourness that had settled over the three older Musketeers.

“Well, if you become her guard, you can tell us first hand if the rumors are deserved or not,” Athos said.

“That I can.” Thor slapped Athos and Porthos’ shoulders as he stood, taller than d’Artagnan had thought him to be. “As much as I enjoyed seeing you all again, and meeting you, d’Artagnan, I really must be going. I have yet another interview first thing in the morning.”

“And as much as we do not like the idea of you needing to take this job, we wish you luck, my friend,” Aramis said in farewell.

“Be careful,” Athos cautioned.

Porthos simply clasped Thor’s arm, looking sullen.

“Do not look so sad, my friends. I shall see you again tomorrow night.”

“I hope so,” Athos mumbled into his wine cup after Thor had already made his way to the tavern door.

/

“You seem unwell.”

Richelieu raised his head at the sound of that silk voice. In the candlelight of the underground chapel, Loki looked almost like a creature that had stepped straight out of the shadows. “Milady de Winter has become a liability.”

“Then throw her away,” Loki said, examining the stone columns with little interest.

“I have, but it still leaves me in a precarious position.”

“After that stunt with the Queen, your position will always be precarious.”

Richelieu was silent for a long moment as he looked over the woman he had come to consider a daughter. This whole situation seemed only to excite her; he could already see the wheels turning in her mind. “Perhaps I taught you too well.”

“Nonsense.” Loki’s heeled shoes echoed against the stone as she made her way over to Richelieu, and gracefully sank into the seat next to him. “Revenge has such a sweet taste. Milady was never able to resist it.”

“You are rather fond of revenge yourself,” Richelieu pointed out.

“While I have a sweet tooth, I know how to restrain myself. That was a lesson you made sure I learned well. Milady, however, never had any such control over her indulgence.” Loki paused, seeming to think over something before throwing it away for another train of thought. “The King still relies heavily upon your advice. This is something you can weather, although if you threaten the life of my friend again, I will not be a tool at your disposal for such a plan.”

“Did you have a purpose visiting me so late?” he asked. As much as he wished not to show it, Loki’s assurances did have a calming effect upon him, even if he was not particularly pleased by her allegiance to the Queen.

Loki shifted in a move that could almost be called fidgeting. That immediately put Richelieu on edge again. He had known her long enough to recognize that whatever news she brought him would be trouble for both of them.

“My husband may pose a…nuisance.”

Richelieu lifted his head to look at his ward, reading into her words. “Are you sure?”

“I have no solid evidence, but yes.”

Richelieu sighed heavily, going back to staring into the candle light. “Then we will have to watch him all the more carefully.” If Doom thought to become a problem for France, Richelieu would remove him, King’s cousin or not.

/

Thor hid his surprise badly when he was presented to the Duc himself.

“Expecting someone else?” Doom asked with a raised eyebrow. He was dressed in sensible, but obviously expensive clothing. He wore a rapier on his hip, and given his athletic build and the way he moved, Thor did not doubt Doom knew how to use it. If there was a checklist of what a noble should be, Doom would hit the mark every time.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was expecting to meet with Misure Osborn again.”

“There are only so many times you can meet with Osborn before I see what kind of character you are for myself. After all, the safety of my wife is of paramount importance.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

Doom picked up two sheets of parchment from his desk, looking over them quickly. “You come with high recommendations, I’ll give you that. And you have managed to impress Osborn, which is not a simple task. I just have one question for you: why should I trust you with my wife’s safety?”

“Because I will assure that she remains just that, safe,” Thor practically blurted out.

Doom threw his head back and laughed. Thor returned his smile, certain that his endeavor was about to be met with success, completely missing the dark beat in Doom’s mirth.

But before Doom said anything official, the doors to his office opened to admit the most beautiful woman Thor had ever seen. Her dark hair was piled up into curls at the top of her head, select strands escaping in a way that was obviously staged but looked so inviting to Thor’s fingers. Her dress was a vibrant green with darker emerald embroidery. It was cut so the sleeves puffed out, and was tight around her chest, pushing her breasts up to reveal her tantalizing cleavage. The outfit was completed with a ruff, the same color as her dress, copying the same style the queen was so often seen wearing.

“Ah, my dear, wonderful timing.” Doom held his hand out to the woman, drawing her to his side.

Thor could not take his eyes off the Duchess’, for that was the only person she could be, pale skin. Her hands looked so very soft and delicate. It had been so long since he’d been touched by a woman with hands that soft. Thor forced himself to breathe again, drawing his eyes away from Loki and back to her husband.

“Who is this?” Loki asked. Emerald eyes, the same color as the intricate lace on her dress, raked over him critically. Thor felt like those eyes were examining the worthiness of his very soul.

“Your new guard, perhaps. What do you think of him?” Doom asked. Thor felt his breath hitch again as Doom’s arm reached around the Duchess’ waist. Thor had heard that the Duc and Duchess were not very private about their private lives, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

Loki hummed thoughtfully and approached Thor, her delicate heels clicking against the marble floors. Thor held still as Loki slowly circled like some elegant bird of prey. “He certainly _looks_ strong. I assume you have already tested him?”

“I have. He put my own guards to shame. Captain Treville also gave him some outstanding recommendations.” Doom watched them carefully, his smirk still on his lips. His whole entire posture suggests that he was very pleased with his discovery of Thor. “If you do not want him, I may keep him on for myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Loki snapped, her tone suggesting that if she did not like him, Thor would not be staying at all. She paused once she had completed her circuit, standing in front of Thor. The Duchess was a head shorter than Thor, but it still felt like she was the one looking down at him. “What do you think of me?” she asked him.

Thor hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the question. Loki does not look impressed at all, and quickly snapped, “Well?”

Thor recovered himself quickly, taking great pleasure in the satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes. “You have a very strong spirit, Your Grace.”

Loki blinked, turning back to her husband. “He is the first not to comment on my beauty.”

“Vanity, my dear,” Doom pointed out. “I rather like that you will have a bodyguard who does not stare at your chest when he should be looking out for danger.”

Loki made a noise of disgust and spun around on her heel. “I do not like him. Get rid of him,” the Duchess calls over her shoulder.

Thor’s heart dropped down to the bottom of his stomach. He had been so confident that he had finally found a well paying position that would allow him to leave behind mercenary work.

But as the doors closed behind her, Doom laughed in that same pleased tone. “She is like that occasionally…all the time really. You certainly have your work cut out for you.”

“I have the position then?” Thor asked, hurriedly adding on, “Your Grace,” before Doom could take offense.

“Of course. Osborn,” Doom called out to his own bodyguard. “This is to be my wife’s new guard. I trust you can show him how we do things here.”

Thor smothered the giddy laughter bubbling up in his chest, but a large smile crept its way across his face when he imagined Athos, Porthos, and Aramis’ horror at the news.

/

“That was not a very subtle move, my husband,” Loki said as she stared out the carriage window, the palace quickly coming into view.

“It was not meant to be. After all, we both know you have already pieced together enough of my plans to know your place in them.” Doom slowly turned his head to look at his wife, hatred and eagerness both clear in his gaze. “It is rather poetic, is it not? You destroyed his father, and now he has the perfect chance to avenge his family.”

“If he finds out.”

“He will.”

Loki tore her eyes away from the streets of Paris to the man now plotting her death. “Why?”

Doom looked rather unimpressed with the straight forward question. That was not usually how their game went. “Because as much as you were a prize at the start of our marriage, you have since become a hindrance. A man needs an heir, and your barren womb refuses to produce.”

“Perhaps it is not my womb, but your weak seed that is the problem,” Loki snapped back.

Doom’s hand immediately shot out, squeezing Loki’s knee through the thick fabric of her dress. “Do not blame me for your short comings, _wife_.” His hand loosened, slowly pulling Loki’s skirt up to reveal her legs. “Still, you have your uses.”

Loki spread her legs a little further as Doom’s hand wandered between her thighs. “You had best hurry. It will not be long before we reach our destination.”

Doom threw her a smirk before Loki’s head fell back, breath hitching as her husband’s fingers found her clit. “We may be enemies, Loki, but there is no reason for us to be hostile to each other all the time.”

Loki bit her lip to force back a moan, but she did not miss the lingering bit of fear in Doom’s eyes. Whatever he may pretend, he knew Loki was dangerous, and by declaring open war of her, he had put himself at risk.

It would not be long before their game finally came to a conclusion, and Loki refused to let Doom come out the victor.

/

**[marty-mc](http://tmblr.co/mI1QvEOJbToRZTmohslJIfg) drew this wonderful piece of period Loki for me, and I thought I’d share it with all of you. Please do not repost. Marty worked very hard on this, and deserves all the credit for her genius. (I will be posting it separately in just a moment for anyone who wishes to just reblog the picture.) **


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